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Webseries

Here is our selection of Blood Bowl-inspired webseries, whether literary or comics. New episodes are published more or less weekly with breaks during vacations and holidays.

37: No one’s even rioting!

Nykal would have said his cousin Hansi sounded disappointed were it not for the general gloom that hung over the Eztadio de Sanger. Works like a dog on the wharves loading and unloading ships six days a week; he deserves better fun than this. But the crier shouting out the team lists triggered…

36: Now you die!

Nytmir Curseweaver’s screech filled Umberto’s ears as he bounded up the stone staircase that curved around the outside of the cylindrical granary in the El Bosque Quarter. He hoped the Xonyxas were following him because he’d need help … if he made it on time. His heart was pounding in his chest, he…

35: We can’t actually murder the little shit

We can’t actually murder the little shit. Right, Karolyse said in response to his declaration, because murder’s bad. Umberto shook his head. No, it’s not that. We need him alive, see. They were using Cassandra Thordwall’s “office” in the Kingfisher Inn down by the docks. He had asked Karolyse as the…

34: Viper-bitten Dark Elves!

As unappealing as the thought was, Jacyntha realized it was her only chance: striking out for Dark Elf land. She could finally see the shadowed shore off to starboard and now she needed courage. Saying it out loud, even if only to herself alone in her darkened cabin, helped. Mytilan’s navy wasn’t…

33: She’s gone into hiding.

The players reacted to his news well-enough, or so Umberto thought at any rate. The Xonyxas glanced at each other and he recognized the same trepidation he had seen in the eyes of his foes many a times just before a fight started. And yet, despite whatever worry they felt, they looked ready … for…

32: Our captain has deserted us?

Cassandra Thordwall had been sitting with her feet up on the table she used as a desk in the Kingfisher Inn: now she slipped her boots off the table, sat up straight, and glared at Umberto. “Hard to say, boss,” her bodyguard answered. “I spoke to a stevedore down on the wharves, see. He attended two…

31: I’m not going back.

Jacyntha planted her fists on her hips, trying to project the image of a determined footy player. Such pretences were become easier and easier to pull off. Indeed, they were feeling less and less like pretences at all. “Don’t be daft, daughter. Of course you are.” Her mother’s cabin on board her…